The Real Story of Numair and Ozorne
by Evil Incarnate
Summary: What really happened to Numair and Ozorne at university? Not much learning, but lots of fun with a girl called Mary Sue ... No romance, just friendly Sue bashing, and all sorts of secrets Numair doesn't dare tell Daine...


The Real Story of Numair and Ozorne

Disclaimer: Numair, Ozorne and Carthak belong to Tamora Pierce, but I own _the_ Mary Sue and the Bachelor of Magic and Chicane Arts … hey, and the student guide as well! Steal them at your peril! (Actually, if you really want Mary Sue, we can start talking … hmm, can I actually earn money out of a fanfic? *Rubs hands together in glee*) 

Warning: Mary Sue bashing will follow … if you want her to fall in love with Numair then turn away _now_! 

Oh, and I'll try to return Numair unscathed … but no promises! (Daine may have to kill me now that the truth is out … this is what _really_ happened…) 

The Introduction Session and How Numair Got His Name: Morning

Dear Mother,

University is fantastic! I have made a new friend, Ozorne, who is the Prince of Carthak and seems really, really nice. He has been so kind to everyone and making it that much easier to fit in – and like me, loves books and quiet time in the library.

I have an info session to attend tomorrow, so I had better go now so I can get up nice and early.

Please send me some more money; I can't believe how much these books cost. My bookshelf is full already, and semester hasn't even started yet!

With love,

Arram

"Numair! _Numair!_ If you don't get up now, we'll miss the introductory speech by the Vice-Chancellor!" The heavy fists pounding against his door were loud and unrelenting and awoke Numair, formerly Arram Draper – who would want to be called a name like _Draper_? – from a very sound sleep.

            When he sat up Numair realised just why he had been sleeping so soundly. He scrambled out of bed and reeled to the privy where he vomited up the seven vodkas-with-orange he had consumed the night before at the campus party. Or maybe it was more then seven. His bookshelves were lined with bottles and flasks and someone's petticoat lay in the corner underneath his rug.

            "Shut up, Ozorne," he called back once he had finished vomiting. "It's still dark."

            "Open the curtains!" Ozorne shot back, and continued pounding against the door. Numair groaned and tripped over the lone book in the tiny room – actually a pamphlet that advertised the university's bar facilities – and kind of scrambled towards the window. The Prince of Carthak was right; behind the curtains the sun was shining brightly. It was the kind of day that was too bright, too happy and too damned perfect. Numair scowled and lurched towards the door.

            A half-drunken Ozorne fell in and landed on the floor. "Evening, Draper."

            "It's _Numair_," Numair said testily. He frowned at the bottle and at the cloak resting in his doorway. "You slept in my doorway?"

            Ozorne shrugged. "I lost my keys." He scrambled to a sitting position and stared hazily at Numair, who stared past him to the glaring eyes of the girl who lived across the hall from Numair, arms folded across her chest, nose screwed up as she stared at the empty bottles, the twisted blankets, and the woman's dress on the floor. 

            "You will be late, both of you," she said primly, and Numair realised through the thick pounding in his head that she had been the one banging on the door and telling him to open the curtains – and why would Ozorne care about a Vice-Chancellor's speech anyway? _How did she know…?_ "Ew. How can you live like this?" She kicked at one bottle, which rolled over and broke on the floor, sending fragments of glass shattering over the half-prone Ozorne.

            "Who _are_ you?" Numair mumbled through a mouth that tasted like dirty socks and vodka. That was really the reason why he and Ozorne got on so well. No man who could drink straight vodka as well could be bad … and he too enjoyed the pleasures of the university's underground brothel at the back of the bar. He wasn't even opposed to three… 

            She sniffed. "I'm Mary Sue. I live across the hall."

            Numair stared at her blearily, and Ozorne followed his glance. She was tall with long blonde hair and blue eyes, a perfectly neat and clean dress and a sharp knife at her belt. Her hair was bound back in plaits without a hair out of place and a force of powerful magic surrounded her like flies surrounded a piece of rotting meat. Her books were tucked neatly under her arm and she looked both dangerous and powerful, at the same time achieving the presence of someone who was attractive, innocent and actually cared for the wellbeing of others. 

            In essence she was perfect … perfect for Numair and Ozorne's plans, that is…

            _Hey, Ozorne? Her?_

Ozorne grinned and nodded just once in agreement, the thought of what they could do this … Mary Sue … driving him somewhat out of his drunken stupor.

            Numair smiled lopsidedly. "Shall we go to class, then?" he asked, pulling up the bottom of his pyjama bottoms and tripping over Ozorne as he followed Mary Sue out into the hallway.

Half sober and completely bored, Numair elbowed a snoring Ozorne as the Vice-Chancellor rambled on about "how wonderful it all was they had chosen the wonderful Royal University of Carthak as a place to further their studies in the wonderful world of further learning". Numair thought he would be sick again if he heard the word 'wonderful' one more freaking time…

            "Shut up," he hissed. "They can hear you up the front."

            "And of course it is a privilege granted to very few, so you should make the most of the wonderful opportunities that will be offered here at this wonderful university…" Ozorne groaned loudly and stared making rude gestures towards the Vice-Chancellor, who was, unfortunately, a black-robed mage … and being the Prince of Carthak meant relatively little when dealing with a black-robed mage. Ozorne's shrieks echoed throughout the hall and Numair inched away, not wanting to be associated with the screaming Ozorne.

            Mary Sue, way up in the front row and closest to the Vice-Chancellor – and practically drooling in awe of her powers – shook her head towards Ozorne and rolled her eyes, the perfect picture of the perfect student. Numair smiled stiffly as Ozorne screamed louder, "My hair! My hair! It's falling out, it's falling out! My beautiful hair!" and slammed Ozorne's head into the back of the chair in front of him. The first year students sighed in collective relief and even the professors and lecturers on the stage were beginning to look relieved as an unconscious Ozorne slumped to the floor.

            "Of course," the Vice Chancellor continued, "you will have the chance to learn what will be wonderful for your no doubt wonderful careers in later life…"

            Numair tuned out and tried to ignore Ozorne murmuring, "Draper, Draper" from the floor. 

"All those who are doing a Bachelor of Magic and Chicane Arts, please follow me to your left," the third year student guide announced, giving the gathered first years a look that clearly read, "you have no idea what you are in for" and waving them towards the left of the hall. Numair dragged Ozorne up from the floor and shoved him towards the hapless student guide, who was wearing black, no doubt to symbolise magic, but he could also have been symbolising the dire evil of the word 'wonderful'. Numair wasn't exactly sure. "I'll call out your names, and then you get this sticker," a big black sticker with the words 'Faculty of Magic and Chicane Arts' written in big silver letters about the student's name. The sticker was the size of Mary Sue's 'A wonderful history of the world of magic', which made it about the size of Ozorne's swollen head. "Then we go on a campus tour. Any questions?"

            Mary Sue's hand shot right up and Numair exchanged whispered plans with a now semi-conscious Ozorne about what they were going to do to the _perfect_ girl while she asked five hundred million questions. Finally she stopped, or the student guide interrupted her – Numair wasn't sure which, since he wasn't paying any attention in the first place – and Ozorne kicked Numair in the shins. He claimed it was by accident, as he had lost all motor coordination skills after Numair had knocked his head into the chair.

            The student guide ran through the roll. "Arram Draper?"

            Numair ignored him. Ozorne elbowed him.

            "_Arram Draper?!_"

            "He's here," Ozorne yelled obnoxiously, smashing his fist down on Numair's head.

            "It's _Numair_!" Numair screamed in utter frustration.

            "_Numair_ Draper?"

            Ozorne screamed in laughter and began leaning on the disgusted-looking Mary Sue, who was trying to back away unsuccessfully but couldn't while Ozorne rested one hand on her library of books.

            "No!" Numair exclaimed. "It's Numair … ah, Numair … hmm… Numair…" He thought for a moment. "Numair Salmalín."

            "Numair Salmonella? Okay, then." Ozorne's laughter drowned out Numair's shriek of horror as the student guide made the appropriate changes to the roll. 

            Numair groaned and cupped his head in his hands. It was going to be a long day … but hopefully there would be Mary Sue at the end of it… 


End file.
